


The Bad Days

by Emily_F6



Series: Peter Parker Prompts [18]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Irondad, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25757992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_F6/pseuds/Emily_F6
Summary: Peter has a bad mental health day while staying with the Avengers.  Clint comes along to help him through it.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Peter Parker Prompts [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866505
Comments: 4
Kudos: 216





	The Bad Days

**Prompt: Peter has a bad mental health day.**

The bad days had started when he was around twelve. Heavy days, days where nothing seemed fun anymore, even the things he loved, and where colors seemed to be muted. Days where even May and Ben's arms wrapped around him didn't fix anything. Didn't make it all better like they had when he'd been little. Days where homework felt impossible and the world seemed cruel and indifferent and he wondered if this was how it would be forever. If this was his life now.

They always passed, the bad days. Always. He always got through it, and like a light switch being flipped, the world would go back to the place it had been before. Not all good. But not all bad either. May and Ben would feel like home once more, and their hugs would make his heart swell, his body relax, even if he was too big to seek out comfort like that.

With the help of a therapist that May and Ben had hired, and the medicine he took every day, the bad days were better. Not nearly as frequent, or as strong. But they still happened sometimes.

As soon as Peter opened his eyes on a Saturday morning, watching the sunlight steam in through his window, he knew it was going to be a bad day. And since he was at the tower for the weekend, it wasn't like he could just sleep through it like normal. But he could try. "Friday? What time is it?"

"It is nearly eleven pm. Boss has asked me to inform you that breakfast is waiting for you in the kitchen when you're ready to get up. He has meetings until three pm, after which he suggested you could work in the lab together."

Any other day, that would sound fantastic. Any other day, he'd be thrilled about working in the lab with Mr. Stark. Today, on the other hand, all he wanted to do was pull the covers over his head and pretend to be sick. But if Mr. Stark thought he was sick, he might come back to the tower and take him to the medbay, or, if he found out that he was having a bad day, there would be questions to answer, and the thought of getting through that just sounded utterly exhausting. So he decided to do none of it. Instead, he let his head drop back onto his pillow as he stared at the wall.

The knock on his door surprised him in a vague way. Things happened on bad days. He rarely felt things about them. "Friday? Is he still asleep?"

Wondering what Clint Barton, who he'd known for all of a month and who he'd never really spoken to, wanted, Peter closed his eyes, hoping Friday wouldn't rat him out. Unfortunately, Friday rarely sided with him. Especially when he hadn't actually given a verbal request. "Peter is currently in bed, but he is not asleep."

The door opened, and Clint poked his head in. "Uh…hey, kid. You alright?" He asked, lifting an eyebrow. Clint was a father, Peter remembered as he stared at the mind, trying to gather the strength to respond. Maybe that's why he was fine with coming into Peter's room.

"Yeah, fine," Peter told him, his voice a tired sigh. The Avenger continued to stare at him, stepping fully into Peter's bedroom at the tower, the walls decorated with posters of things that, at the moment, held absolutely no interest. Not even the Star Wars poster with Mark Hamill's signature that had been so cool only the day before. He wanted Clint to go away. He wanted to close his eyes and slip into sleep so that this feeling that had settled over him like a suffocating blanket would finally disappear.

And then the man came closer, pressing the back of his hand to Peter's forehead. "Are you sick?"

Peter shrugged. He wasn't, but maybe if Clint thought he was, he'd leave him alone.

"You need me to get Tony?"

Peter should his head.

For a moment, the man was silent. And then he patted Peter's shoulder. "Come on, kid. Let's get some breakfast."

Peter didn't point out the fact that it was nearly noon. Arguing seemed like too much trouble, so with a sigh, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood, following him dumbly into the empty kitchen. Opening the microwave, Clint pulled out a plate full of waffles with a side of bacon that Peter just stared at for a moment before sitting at the table and mumbling out a 'thank you.' Every bite tasted like cardboard, but he ate anyway, knowing that if he didn't, Clint was going to be worried. And he had no idea what Clint would do if he got worried.

Once he'd eaten the food and drank the chocolate milk that the man had given him, staying mostly silent even if he did feel like a kid after being handed a glass of chocolate milk, Clint put his plate in the sink. "Aright, what do you say you get dressed and we head down to the training room. I've been dying to see what you can do."

Not seeing any grounds upon which to argue, Peter went back to his room and got dressed, feeling just a little better to be wearing real clothes. Still, his bed was tempting, with blankets that promised to be warm and soft…but he didn't give in. Clint was waiting. An Avenger was waiting. So he headed down to the training room, pleading with his brain to snap out of it. Begging his body to come to life, to shake off the heaviness that was tethering him to the ground, making his steps too heavy and his shoulders slump.

Peter hadn't been in the training room much since he'd started coming to the tower regularly, even though Mr. Stark had suggested coming over to train with the Avengers sometime. And he wanted to, which was why any other time, he would have been so excited to be going to the training room with Clint, even though Clint wasn't someone he knew all that well. Or…at all. Still. Clint was an Avenger and he'd been invited to join him in the training room. So he was something. Not quite excited. But something.

Clint wasn't the only one waiting for him down in the training room. In fact, when he stepped off the elevator, he heard several voices, and when he stepped into the room, he saw Clint talking to Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson, both of whom glanced up at him with friendly smiles.

"Hey there, son. We were about to do some training. What do you say to joining us?"

Peter didn't know how he could say no.

The training started with sparring. First with Clint. Then with Sam. Then with Steve. With Steve, he felt his body start to finally relax, just a little. His breath came in hard pants, finally facing a challenge as he punched and dodged and kicked and felt sweat run down his back. It felt good. Felt good to finally work with his full strength. And when he felt like his body had been exhausted, they all headed for the showers, then the kitchen, and just for a little while, Peter forgot about the heaviness. He ate the food that Steve made, almost tasting it.

And then they were all in the living room and Peter found himself sitting on the sofa, shoulder to shoulder with Clint while Steve and Sam bickered over which movie to watch. Clint patted him on the arm and asked him about school. Asked him about his internship with Mr. Stark. And he tried to answer them, but all he wanted was to sleep. To go back to his room and curl up under a blanket. Still, he couldn't just leave the Avengers on the sofa. That would be rude. So he sat, letting his shoulder rest against Clint's as Steve finally chose an action movie about robots…or cars…either way, Peter felt his attention drifting within minutes. But, he realized, it was nice. It was nice to be in a room with other people who were talking and laughing and occasionally asking him questions even though it was a struggle to answer them.

Clint got up almost an hour into the movie, and Peter heard him talking to someone, but his eyes were heavy and then Mr. Stark had replaced Clint beside him, a familiar arm wrapping around his shoulders, and Peter dropped his head against the man's shoulder.

"Hey bud," he murmured, squeezing his arm, and Peter managed a smile.

"Hey."

"How are you feeling?"

He shrugged. Better. He felt better. But still not good. Mr. Stark grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around his the both of them. Suddenly the TV was a little quieter, and Tony rubbed a hand up and down his arm.

"Is it bad?"

Peter shook his head, even though it had been. It wasn't quite as bad as before, so that was something.

"You sure?"

He nodded.

"Have you been taking your meds?"

He nodded again.

"Alright, bud," He murmured, squeezing him in a quick hug. "You rest for a while. Maybe you'll feel better after a nap."

That was all the permission Peter needed, eyes drifting shut, and the last thing he heard Mr. Stark say was "Which one of you picked this shit movie, because I know it wasn't the kid."

He fell asleep with a smile on his face, the first genuine, happy one of the day.

**Thanks for reading!**


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